


don't let the door hit you

by inacolloquialsense



Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: M/M, Self Esteem Issues, They make up in the end, being rude to the bf, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 17:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12089826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inacolloquialsense/pseuds/inacolloquialsense
Summary: prompt:  You treat me like shit/like you barely know me whenever we’re in company and I’m kind of offended that you’re so ashamed to be seen with me, little do I know you do it on purpose just to rile me up because you think I’m cute/hot when I’m a mixture of sad and mad  but now I can’t say anythingq is offended





	don't let the door hit you

“I never knew there was so much to editing a reality tv show.” Q said, smiling through his teeth. He’d been stuck in the same spot for twenty minutes talking with someone he just met. If he wasn’t trying to impress some of the executives he probably would have walked away after the guy rattled off two sentences of how people tow cars. Fuck whoever made the rules of polite society.

“And I’ll let you in on a little secret.” The guy smiles, leans in close like they’re good pals now. His breath smells like onion dip after hours of marinating in stale beer. “They reenact most of it, but nobody really pays attention enough to notice.”

“Wow. No shit. You don’t say?” The moment he’s been waiting for the whole night is here. He punches him on the shoulder, a little harder than he should. “I’m sorry,” Quinn makes a quick glance at his name tag. “Chad, I gotta go. Someone just walked through the door who I’ve been dying to see.”

Murr is here. He’s wearing the three piece suit he used for the tour. Stupid fucking vest fitting so snug against his torso. This dumbshit party where he can’t drag James into a closet and get his hands around it.

“Q.” James comes up to him. “I was going get here earlier, but I wanted to stay at the bar for another hour.” He has the eyes of man who has done nothing wrong. Quinn is finding the look more familiar, and every time he wants to cause bodily harm as a result of it.

“Thanks for telling me to get here early, then.” He spits out. “I’ve been drifting in the crowd, and I’m ready to blow my head off. Can we go?” 

“I wanted you here to represent the show.” A server walks by with a tray and James lifts a drink of champagne. “It’d be rude for me to leave without mingling a little. If it makes it easier we can brave all these scary strangers together.” Murr says mockingly, gently raising the flute to his lips. Bubbly, light, crisp.

“Okay, fine. If we have to.” Q squares up, resembling a brick house. People get scared and don’t want to approach them? Good. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and he wants out like a rat in a trap.

“Be more obvious, Brian.” Murray scans the room for potential victims. “Start barking if you want them to run.” He kisses him on the cheek. “Stay here and look pretty, not that you’d move for anything.”

Only part of him wants to follow the other man across the room. Lost again in the sea suits and dresses. Laughter so perfectly toned it must be robotic. He backs away to a nice looking wall. Distracts himself with twitter.

The music swells to race the hearts of these middle-aged socialites. Heads begin to bob, fingers beating out rhythms, then finally dancing. Mostly stunted and self-conscious, but those drunk enough to not care seem to be enjoying themselves in a flurry of arms and legs. 

He pockets his phone and enjoys people watching. Tries not to let his face show a reaction when he catches a glance of Murr. Smiling, because of course he’s smiling. Talking for hours about nothing has always been his forte. Shit, he’s caught. Quinn coughs into his hand and looks away.

James has made many new acquaintances. Several way above his social strata, and he intends to carefully tuck away information from this night for further use. Brian was staring at him, and it feels like a mercy kill when he returns the look. He sees his friend sit down, drop out of sight amongst the undulating crowd of people.

Every. Time. Q should stop agreeing to come to these events. Hours wasted schmoozing with inflated egos and whitened teeth. Only consolation being the alcohol he can’t drink too much of in risk of making a fool of himself (not that he can’t do it well enough completely sober). The most common activity he goes through is bathing in self-loathing while Murray chats up half the room. 

He’s working his way across. One step at a time he begins to see more and more of the compressed lump of the man he loves. Maybe he let him stew too long this time. Poor guy looks like someone kicked his cat. Fuck, those soppy eyes get him every time. “I thought I lost you.” James takes the seat next to him.

“Can we go now?” His body leans of its own accord. Murr’s hot even through the suit.

“I didn’t chain you to the chair.” The last of his drink goes down his throat smoothly. He’d switched to water some time ago, and the condensation from the glass sticks to his skin. Wet fingers squish Q’s face. “You never have to stay, but I’m glad when you do.” He dries his hand on the material of Quinn’s button up. “You’re a very cute mope.”

“I wish I could smack you.” He puts his back to the wall, not that the distance makes much of a difference. James is still smirking with eyes just as bright. “You’re only confirming how much a jerk you are.”

“Don’t blame me for you own ineptitude. Keeping up a conversation for twenty minutes shouldn’t be too difficult.” A fire ignites in Quinn, and he watches in delight as it builds.

“Admit you’re a piece of shit for constantly abandoning me.” He pushes back his hair. “You nag me to come to some shitty party every month, and you wander off to talk the ear off strangers.”

“The whole point of these things is to make new connections.”

Brian exhales out his nose. “Then I really don’t understand why I’m here when you can obviously kiss ass enough for the both of us. You’re always so fucking relieved when you see me sitting here alone like some jackoff. I’m not good enough to speak with your would-be friends, but it’s fine for me to grow moss on the sidelines?” He takes a breath. “What am I to you? An embarrassment? Your good luck charm?”

“It’s not a good idea to get mad.” Murr presses down his suit. “Calm down.”

“Oh what? Will I cause a scene or something?” Energy courses his veins. “I’m not so fucking stupid as to start screaming at a formal event.”

“No, I trust you, but I’m worried for selfish reasons. We’re at least thirty minutes from our bed unless you want car sex.” He sets his glass on the floor. “And if you keep using that tone I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”

“You said yesterday you were thinking about getting your car detailed?” He seethes. They’re both standing.

Murray matches Q’s stride through the doors. “Some days I love you more than others.” 

“Shuddap.”

“Make me.”


End file.
